Unrequited
by naktojlumair
Summary: just some Johndave/davejohn/johnny appleseed stuff. Whatever you wanna call the ship. Yeah-dave and john both have feelings for each other but neither of them know that they feel the same way! (it was supposed to be a one shot but i think its gonna be a series)


We all know of the house that was stranded, about the story of the end of the world. We know of the game and the people who played it. What about love? We know that they felt it. We know the players and the trolls, they felt those human emotions. Whether in quadrants or just in general. How did it appear when the game was over? When the world came back to them, spinning and ticking just for that purpose. The old clocks only continuing the march of time?

Your name is John Egbert, you're 19 years old, and you don't know how you're going to cope with these feelings.

You don't know how it happened, or when it started, it all seems so fuzzy to you. The memories floating around your head, all the times you've hung out together, laughing, gaming, it seems so crazy that all of that could lead to such ludicrous feelings. Now you're determined, yet scared. Scared to profess those undying feelings that flutter around in your stomach so gently, yet so passionately. All you know is that you have to tell him soon, before it's too late.

You're in love with Dave Strider

Your hands are quivering slightly as you open pesterchum, checking for that ever so familiar username.

The wait is a long one, but not seeing his username light up on your screen, you start to lose hope. Maybe it's not time to tell him just yet.

**turntechGodhead is online**

Your breath does a sharp intake. Thoughts running wild around your head, storming against your skull. Should you do it? Or should you wait out. After all, you so strongly proclaimed yourself heterosexual that it would almost seem like crazy talk to suddenly tell him that you were...

In love.

With another guy.

With him.

Dave.

You shake your head. Now is not the time for doubts. You just have to tell him.

With shaking hands, you click over to pesterchum, starting a quick conversation with Dave.

**-ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 4:50-**

**EB: hey dave.. **

**TG: sup. **

**EB: i have to tell you something**

**TG: sure bro, shoot. **

**EB: well um... :B **

**EB: i..**

**EB: erm.**

**TG: damn bro it cant be that difficult just spit it out. **

**EB: hehe sorry, um, well I thought I would tell you **

**EB: that I uh.**

Damn, why was it so hard? Your heart pounded against your chest, struggling to escape the nervous cavity that you chained it so roughly too.

**EB: well. im in love with you dave. :B**

Holy shit. You panicked, slamming your laptop shut and pacing around your room. Stupid stupid. He could never feel the same. Why would you even bother trying to tell him? Damn. You run your fingers through messy black locks, screwing them up all the more before patting them roughly back down again.

You wish you hadn't said anything. Yet you can't shake that every so slight sliver of hope from your mind, but fear runs out your wishes and you don't open your laptop again.

Your name is Dave Strider, you're 20 years old, and your pesterchum is blinking ever so slightly with that beautiful profession.

**EB: well. im in love with you dave. :B**

All you can do is stare blankly through your thick shades, eyes wide behind the protection of that darkness you've become so familiar with. Your hands are frozen over the keyboard, but its a good feeling. A great feeling. You can't believe he'd ever felt the same way about you.

Now he's offline, and you fear you waited to long to reply. Granted, he had gone off moments after he had said it, but still, you felt bad.

You run your hands through thick blonde strands of hair, smiling in spite yourself. Those lovely words bouncing around your brain.

You love him too, but he doesn't know it yet. A beautiful enchanting dance of love thats playing out in your life. Of all lives, yours, and its wonderful.

**- ectoBiologist [EB] is online -**

looking over at your screen, you see that John has come back online. Possibly to explain himself, or maybe to give you a chance. Before you can message him and tell him how you feel in return, he messages you.

**-ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 5:20-**

**EB: hey dave. :B**

**TG: hey john i**

**EB: sorry about earlier. **

**TG: what? **

**EB: i took it a bit to far on the pranks that time i guess. hehe. **

**TG: oh uh.. yeah. nice one egderp. **

**TG: you really got me there. **

**EB: sorry! **

**TG: no bro its totally chill. **

**EB: hehe yeah. **

**TG: hey uh. I gotta go do something. Talk to you later though bro okay**

**EB: sure, later! **

You close your laptop. Quietly, slowly. Standing shakily from your desk. So it wasn't real. Within a single moment, your hopes had been shattered.

It was okay thinking he didn't love you. Even worse however, to think he did, and within that brief, oh so short, expanse of time, lose it when it was right within your grasp.

"You're a big fat coward, John," You tell yourself in the mirror for at least the dozenth time.

"A coward."

"A weakling!"

The mirror shatters underneath your fist as you punch it yet again. The weakened glass unable to contain your rage. You fall to your knees, knuckles oozing blood, cut from the shards of glass that came falling down with the wreckage of the reflective frame. Why couldn't you just be normal for once? Play it cool and not care about the consequences?

Why couldn't you be like him?

You stare at your fist. Blankly, sadly. Maybe you should try again, but now he would probably think it was another prank, and its all your fault. Why did you do that again?

Oh yeah.

You cover your face with shaking hands, not caring about the blood you're probably smearing along the frame of your face. Was he mad at you? Why would he be mad? It's not like he ever felt the same... Right?

No.

With a heavy sigh, you stand, reaching under the cabinet and pulling out a first aid kit, opening it and rummaging through with your uninjured hand until you find the bandages. After rinsing, cleaning, and wrapping your hand, you head out into the hall, feeling along the wall as you walk with padded steps down the carpeted hallway and into your room.

The bed feels like heaven, a relaxing sanctuary where you can simply curl up and just not think for a couple minutes, hours, or sometimes days. The blankets are wrapped comfortably around your shaking body, but sleep evades you for a long while.

The clock slowly ticks to 2am and you still can't sleep with all these thoughts wreaking havoc in your mind. It's like a never ending onslaught that just won't stop, a charging bull startled by a predator, ramming against its caged walls in an attempt to force its way out. Your head is practically swimming, no, drowning with these thoughts. Gasping for breath, only your broken fingernails able to graze the surface of that inner turmoil.

What if he had felt the same?

What if what you had done had only made things worse between you?

Was he really busy?

Did he love you too?

It couldn't be.

But...

You had to see him. You couldn't wait. You had to tell him face to face, before it was too late. The same thought you'd had before. Only this time, you would do it right.

You squirm and struggle out of your sheets, throwing them off with a hurried flourish and rapidly shoving a baggy white shirt on over your bare chest. What shoes were nearby, you grabbed, a pair of old white sneakers, and, hopping down the stairs, you shove them on one after the other.

The car is parked just outside your house, and you jam the button on the keys repeatedly in your exhaustion and desperation to get it unlocked. Dropping heavily down into the drivers seat, you grab the door and shut it, louder than necessary perhaps, but you don't care, and gripping the steering wheel with aching knuckles, you shift it into drive.

You just hope you can tell him before he's too fed up with you.


End file.
